


Gone

by vianne78



Series: Nate [10]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Home, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Post-Game(s), Scheming, Team as Family, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, so obviously some spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-31 12:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12132159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vianne78/pseuds/vianne78
Summary: A stranger appears in Sanctuary Hills, a flock of gunners hot on their tail. Of course, this settlement is able and fully willing to help, but not everything is as it seems. Soon sinister things are brewing just under the surface.





	1. Be Quick Or Be Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Tags are for the whole fic, so there wont be smut in every chapter (sorry), but there will be fluff and friends and kisses and banter and general fun - and, of course, some evil scheming, worrying, running against the clock, the works. The whole thing is ready, I just have to make it presentable enough to post, chapter by chapter. 
> 
> Also, Nate and Danse are so damn cute, I can't even.

***************************  
***************************

_His head hurt like hell, and there was something seriously wrong with his lungs._  
_He couldn’t seem to get enough air, no matter how hard he tried, and he had to use every bit of his training and willpower to keep from hyperventilating, or losing it completely._

_It wasn’t the thought of dying that scared him. He had come close so many times by now, he knew dying would be easy._  
_He’d been beaten, stabbed, mauled, shot and burned multiple times, he’d seen friends blown to_ _pieces and lost his whole family - he had already been through burning pits of hellish agony,_ _so pain, or the prospect of it, did nothing to scare him, either._

_What scared him, more than anything, was the thought that the people he cared about would never know what had happened to him. That his bones would dry somewhere close by, almost within reach, and Danse_ _would waste his life looking._  
_And Nate knew, without any doubt, that Danse would never stop._

***************************  
***************************

 

** Some weeks ago **

Over the hammering of his heart, he could barely hear the sounds of the men after him. He knew they weren’t far behind - and he knew he had to find some place to hide, to lose them. He didn’t know how much further he could run, uphill like this.

All this time he had tried so hard to stay hidden, avoid any contact with the outside.  
Maybe if he hadn’t lit that fire… but it could have happened anyway, at any time. This time the gunners had just happened to be at the right place to see the glow. A stroke of bad luck. 

Hate twisted his mouth when he remembered Father’s words. That old monster had been right about one thing. This world was in ruins, it’s habitants nothing but pathetic savages.

He passed a gigantic red rocket, dismissing the building under it - too small to be used as a hiding place - and then, just a little further, he saw the open gates of a well-fortified settlement, right there in front of him, across a sturdy wooden bridge. 

Maybe the gunners would forget about him, attack these people instead.  
He had to try. It was his only chance.

 

***

 

The boy seemed to appear out of thin air.  
One moment Sanctuary was lulled to an afternoon siesta, the next an unknown, huddled figure scurried over the bridge and toward the Kitchen, working much like a stick into an anthill.

The settlers had barely reached the shaken newcomer, let alone asked what had him so spooked, when the heavy turrets near the bridge came to life and alerted everyone to the defences.

“So I’m guessing you’re being chased,” Piper grinned and blew a couple of strands of hair from her eyes. The boy’s gaze shifted between the missile turrets and explosions to the pretty reporter, but he only managed to nod. Piper took him by the shoulders, squeezed them gently.

“You just wait with Codsworth. Go inside, there’s plenty of food if you’re hungry.” Piper barely made it to the end of the sentence when the mention of food had the boy nodding so vigorously his hood came off, revealing the dark-haired, skinny young man underneath.

_Not really a boy, then_ , Piper thought as she turned and dug out her heavily modified 10mm (a gift from Nate) to check who - or what - they were up against. A very young man, yes, but a man nonetheless. She heard Codsworth ushering him into the Kitchen behind her.  
She couldn’t wait to hear his story.

 

***

 

“A bit sturdier than lowly raiders, eh? We’ll see about that,” Deacon drawled and aimed, in his rather typical show-off manner. A gunner hiding behind the boulders right next to the bridge was unfortunate enough to lift his head just a fraction, and the top of his skull exploded. 

Preston’s laser musket roared, and another gunner fell from the bridge.  
“Will you concentrate? That one had his sights on you already,” he admonished, exasperated. 

“Nah, that’s why I have you guys, you’ll keep’em off my pretty butt,” Deacon grinned and continued his search for unwary opponents. Preston didn’t bother answering.

They could hear MacCready’s sniper rifle on the other side of the bridge. Piper was hiding in one of the guard towers, taking out anyone trying to wade across the water instead of venturing onto the bridge. 

Sturges jogged to them, keeping low and quiet.  
“We’re spread pretty evenly around the fences, but so far no more than a couple of scouts in the back. Kids are in the Highground with the dogs, Nate and Danse are circling around the gunners as we speak. Can’t be too many left by now. We tried asking the squirt, but he’s not talking much. Or at all.” 

Deacon opened his mouth, about to interrupt with one of his clever quips, but the hulking mechanic silenced him with a stern look.  
“Just be ready for the end game, they’ll be in position soon.” 

Sturges had barely joined Piper in her guard tower, when a commotion in the vicinity of the Red Rocket began to draw the attention of the gunners and made them easier pickings.

A proud smile tugged the corners of Preston’s mouth. Only the general could agitate a whole platoon of gunners like that. The turrets were joining in on the choir again, and soon all hell broke loose.

 

***

 

“Remind me to stay the hell away from the bridge when the turrets take an interest in something, yeah? Those missiles nearly messed my hair, exploding all over the place,” Nate grinned as he joined the others later, Danse barely a step behind. 

“Oh my god, you’re right! I think I can see _one hair_ out of place!” Piper declared in mock outrage, kissing both of their cheeks. 

After a successful fight like that, exuberant banter and laughs filled the air, hugs and claps on the backs openly showing everyone’s relief. The clean-up almost dealt with, they were all gathering in the Kitchen to go through the events - and to get to know the cause of it all. 

The cause was currently sitting at one of the corner tables, Codsworth hovering behind him, empty plates scattered in front of him. Nate approached him with friendly smile, pulling out a chair and straddling it, resting his arms on the back. The stranger stared at him, frozen in place, eyes showing a bit too much white. 

“It’s okay, we took care of those gunners for you. You’re among friends now. I’m Nate, and this is Sanctuary Hills.”

The stranger’s throat worked as he swallowed, but he stayed quiet. Nate’s smile was calm and easy as he gestured around.

“We’re currently in the Kitchen.” He laughed. “I know the name’s not much, but it serves as our common room and there’s always food, so it’s one of our favorite places. You probably noticed we’re quite eager to keep it safe...” 

“And good at it, too!” Someone called from the background, and Nate tossed a grin over his shoulder before continuing.

“... so you can also probably guess how important it is for us to get some answers. Would you mind telling me why the gunners were after you?”

 

***

 

Danse was fighting not to intervene. Adrenaline was still sizzling in his system from the skirmish the intruder had caused, and Nate was too damn _nice_ for his own good. He was dying to grab the pathetic runt by the collar and shake the answers out. 

But Nate kept coaxing, and Danse kept showing extraordinary control by merely leaning on the wall, unreadable and cool as a cucumber. 

Not that he knew what a cucumber was, exactly, but Nate had repeatedly used the expression, so cucumbers must have been impressive.

Nate’s gentle approach finally worked (as it usually did), and Danse heard the young man hesitantly begin talking. Everything he said, Danse doubted. 

Apparently his name was Nemo, and he had been ambushed by the gunners somewhere around Concord. Danse sort of believed that part, but not the rest. Couldn’t remember where he had been coming from or what he was doing, because had hit his head escaping. Riiight. 

Danse pushed away from the wall, straightening all 6’4’’ of him, and the newcomer’s wary eyes flew from Nate to him.

“You must have quite the bump on your head then. Might have a concussion or something worse. We should get Curie to check you out.” 

He kept his voice low and quiet on purpose. It forced the squirt to really pay attention to him as he strained to hear what he was saying, and if it just happened to make him appear even more intimidating, well… it was definitely a bonus.

Nate nodded.  
“I agree, let’s make sure you’re alright.” Nate turned to look at the others, but he didn’t need to say anything - Preston was already walking towards the door, waving in acknowledgement. 

Turning back, Nate exchanged a fleeting look with Danse, full of unspoken meaning, but so brief you could’ve easily missed the exchange if you weren’t paying attention. And someone was paying attention, to everything Nate was doing.

 

***

 

His head was reeling. Everything was coming back, after all that time not thinking about anything. All that death. His friends. His brothers and sisters. All gone. Gone. 

The coursers. The Institute. And the old photograph he’d seen on Father’s table. 

It was insane, completely impossible, but the man in the photograph… he was here. In the flesh. Sitting in front of him. And he, like Father, had the most strikingly blue eyes. Those horrible, terrifying eyes, staring right at him again. 

Father’s eyes. Father.  
Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.

 

***

 

Much later, when it was getting dark, he was still far too restless to sleep with all the anger and painful memories whirling inside him. He was perched on a bench next to the huge, two-story building they called the Quarters. Seemed most of the settlement slept there. 

Nemo couldn’t understand why. They had a settlement full of houses, but they chose to use them for other purposes and sleep all cramped up like this?

He had been shown into one of the alcoves, with a bed and a table and a chair. A window, too, looking over to the river, and thick curtains acting as a door, if one required privacy. They had said he could sleep there, use the small space as his own.  
He hadn’t known what to say.

Piper was still sitting by him, chattering, sometimes asking little questions. He answered absentmindedly. His attention was elsewhere.

The man from the photograph - Nate - was just stepping out of a long, low building at the end of the street. The other man, the gloomy and clearly suspicious one, was with him again. He had yet to see one without the other, and the look he’d seen them exchange in the Kitchen made him curious.

“I’m sorry,” he said as meekly as possible, “what’s that building Nate and - and - that other man are coming from?”

Piper looked where he was gesturing and smiled.  
“Oh, you mean the showers. That’s the place to go when you’re after running water. We even have clean bathtubs there, and let me tell you - there’s nothing a good hour nose deep in hot water can’t make better,” she said conspiratorially. “And that other man is Danse. Just one of the people Nate has saved along the way.”

Nemo’s gaze had already turned back to follow the two men talking in hushed tones, slowly making their way up the cracked pavement. He completely missed the way Piper was watching him, thoughtfully, eyes narrowing slightly.

“So, Nate… has saved many people? And this Danse follows him. He is a... guard of some kind? He seems to -” Right then Nate’s laugh paused Nemo in the middle of his sentence. 

Under one of the streetlights they saw Nate lift his hand to brush Danse’s cheek, and Danse, not missing a beat, stepped into the touch. He moved to cup the back of Nate’s head and pulled him close, tilted his head with a bold little smile - and pressed their mouths together, in a burning hot and very public display of affection. 

Piper forced herself not to ogle this time - no matter how tempting it was because _goddamnit_ those two would be the death of her with all that - _holy mother of sweet babies was that Danse’s tongue_ \- NO no no she was not looking - and, tearing her eyes quite forcibly off the scene, continued to examine their guest’s reactions.

Danse murmured something against the corner of Nate’s mouth before slowly letting him go. They remained very close, fingers lightly laced together for the rest of the way. Nemo was still frozen in place a good while after they had disappeared into Nate’s house. 

Finally regaining his speech, several more questions followed, curiously centering on Nate’s past, his relations, where he was from... Piper answered as vaguely as she could, and every question Nemo asked, raised several more in her head. 

There was something lurking there, something important the newcomer wasn’t telling them, and she wanted to keep digging, keep picking his brain until she got to the bottom of it.  
Nick could probably help. She’d contact him in the morning. 

 

***

 

He remembered everything again.  
In vivid detail, he remembered the looks on his friends faces when the coursers had come.  
How he’d recognized the split-second some of them had decided they’d rather die than lose themselves ever again, and had attacked the overwhelming opponents. 

He had been too much of a coward to do the same.

He remembered Father, how he had spoken to them personally, to let them know how disappointed he was. To let them know they would be reprogrammed and separated.  
He remembered the deep satisfaction in the cold blue eyes, when Father had witnessed the dawning horror in their’s. 

And he remembered every detail of the photograph on Father’s table, that smiling soldier with a baby in his arms. The photo had been old, black and white, but that same soldier, somehow, was right here, roaming the same wasteland with him. And he had Father’s eyes.

He remembered, and he had to live with it all.  
Or maybe he finally, finally had his chance for retribution.

 

***

 

“Curie confirmed the boy had hit his head, and pretty nastily, too, so there’s that, but…” Nate hesitated, walked across the room to drop his dog tags on the dresser.

“I don’t know. I just have this inkling. Like I’ve seen him somewhere before. I can’t for the life of me figure it out.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking vaguely annoyed. “Maybe I’m imagining it. He might just have one of those faces.”

Danse was convinced Nate was the last person to imagine something like that - his instincts seemed to be right on target, every time - but the former paladin remained silent. There was a reason he hadn’t voiced his strong suspicions about Nemo. 

His first reaction was always to doubt. Danse had grown to be cynical and suspecting. Nate was anything but. Danse knew he couldn’t blame it all on tragic events and losses - Nate had gone through things most people wouldn’t even survive, and still he managed to be… Nate. Caring, lighthearted, where Danse tended to be glum and heavy-handed. 

Danse had decided he needed to at least try to become a better man, for himself and for Nate. He wanted to adjust his attitude, and it certainly seemed he could never find a better teacher than the man he loved. And this was as good a place to start as any.

“If it’s important, it’ll come to you,” he said mildly. Nate smiled, shrugged his shirt over his head and folded it on the chair in the corner of their bedroom. He was down to his underwear, and Danse was getting distracted.

“That was unexpected of you, babe. Don’t you want to warn me, tell me not to trust him, something? Anything?” Nate’s tone was teasing, but so very warm.

“Nah. I’ll go with you on this one. I trust your butt - gut! I trust your _gut_ ,” Danse hastily corrected, but too late. Nate was already approaching, stalking closer with that certain glint in his eyes, predatory almost. 

“Oh, I see. My rear is at it again, and there goes your concentration, right out the window. You have no shame.” Nate blinked slowly, smile turning downright evil. “Maybe you should be taught? Maybe you should be… disciplined?” 

The last word Nate breathed into Danse’s ear and made him shiver in anticipation. He closed his eyes and swallowed.

“You’re right. I’ve had these thoughts in my head, all day. About your body… your mouth. Filthy thoughts that made me crave. I really need to be taught a lesson.”

Nate hummed, circling behind, pressing against his back. Danse felt lips and teeth nip his neck, hands skim his buttocks.  
“I’m gonna make you beg for it.”

“Promises, promis- nngh!” A sharp slap stole his breath and echoed in the room.  
Some time later, Danse was begging for it.

 

***

 

The first weeks, Nemo was trying to adjust to living among people. He struggled with it so obviously, he had finally, grudgingly, admitted that he had been alone for a long time. 

Something about his behaviour and choice of words had interested Sturges. He had told others to look for signs, ask certain questions, and one night Nemo was tired enough to let things slip. Sturges’ suspicions had been verified. 

Nemo was a synth. He had escaped the Institute before Nate had even crawled out of the Vault. 

His identity revealed, Nemo had been about to flee again - but then other synths living in the settlement had come to greet him. Synths that had found their place, synths that were content, even happy. 

Nemo had not known it to be possible, and it seemed far too good to be true. 

Institute had taught him that synths existed only to be of use to people, nothing more, and when they no longer filled their purpose, they would always be wiped out - reprogrammed or disposed of. These people hadn’t turned against their synths yet, but surely it was just a matter of time.

Yes. Just a matter of time. 

He stayed, but the onslaught of poisonous memories and the rollercoaster emotions were taking their toll on him. Though he had a rush of dark satisfaction when he found out the Institute was no more, it wasn’t enough.  
Things were already festering.

He was rapidly becoming obsessed with Nate, grasping to find the connection he must have had with Father. He was careful with his inquiries, but it became clear early on that the people in the settlement were loyal to Nate, to the man they obviously perceived as their leader. They were kind, but not volunteering any details about his life. 

Far better source of information turned out to be the children.

Little by little, as days and then weeks went by, he took it upon himself to spend time with the little people. Even though their company brought back even more memories of the time he had still had his friends. His family. 

A test batch of children, grown and molded and taught together, the initial success turning into a tragic disaster in the end. Nemo needed to find the connection between Father and Nate more than he needed air. It was his duty. He was the last one left, and he owed them that much.

Getting answers from the children was easier than he thought. The big, smiling soldier seemed to be everyone’s hero, and his life was a dramatic, well-known bedtime story to the new wasteland generation. 

And so he found out about everything. He found the connection.  
The stunning, unbelievable connection. 

Now he knew why the photograph had been on Father’s table. And he knew this was it, finally, finally he had his chance for retribution. 

He only needed to wait for the right moment, and he had nothing but time.

 

***


	2. 2 Minutes To Midnight

***

 

** Yesterday **

 

“It’s only for one night, Danse. I think we’ll survive -”  
The rest of the sentence was lost when Danse’s lips crushed into his, the kiss tinged with more than a hint of desperation. 

“I mean I _hope_ we’ll survive,” Nate corrected, smiling and out of breath when they finally separated, resting his forehead against his lover’s. He felt the steady, strong heartbeat under his fingers. Always in sync with his own.

“I _hate_ that I can’t come with you,” Danse bit out and managed to sound furious and miserable and sulky at the same time. 

Nate agreed. The restrictions with the Brotherhood were ridiculous, particularly now. The Prydwen had returned to Capital Wasteland quite a while ago, taking Maxson with it, and the remaining patrols were all well aware of Danse’s current status. 

Turned out most of them didn’t mind going against this particular direct order. Danse had been a larger than life influence within the Brotherhood for a long time - something even the elder couldn't simply negate. They were quite happy - relieved - to meet and catch up with him, whenever it was time to swap intel with the sentinel. 

But despite Nate’s rank and Haylen’s dogged efforts, some BOS soldiers still refused to even be seen in the same location with their former paladin. Of course they knew not to cross Nate by marching into Sanctuary and starting trouble, instead they always messaged where he should meet them - without Danse, no exceptions. 

This time the broadcast had come late in the evening. Sun was already setting, and it’d be safer to spend the night at Sunshine Tidings, where the BOS team was waiting.

“This will be a long night,” Nate chuckled, trying to lighten the mood but Danse wasn’t having it. His eyes were solemn and very dark.

“The longest. Just... be careful. If anything happened to you, I honestly don’t know what I’d do.”

“The worst that can happen is that some mole rats have reclaimed a nest somewhere along the way and I’ll stink to high heavens when their blood ends up on my clothes.”  
Nate’s words were light, but his attempt to smile didn’t quite succeed this time. 

“I love you. I’ll… I’ll see you in the morning, first thing,” he promised, pressed his lips on Danse’s one more time, and then he left. 

Danse stood there, rooted to the spot until Nate disappeared from his line of vision. Only then did he realize he’d been so distraught that this time he hadn’t said it back.  
He had watched Nate leave without saying he loved him. His heart sank even more.

 

***

 

Nate had decided to use the smaller trail, the one winding past the strange little ranger cabin and circling the dilapidated, frequently ghoul infested Wicked Shipping. 

He’d have to stay on the faintly visible path to avoid stepping into any old holes - it wasn’t as safe as the bigger roads, and the cabin’s vicinity was full of old traps, but it was so much faster it was worth it. 

Getting to the rendezvous faster meant he’d be through dealing with the stubborn BOS grinches sooner. The sooner he’d be through dealing with them, the sooner he could go to bed, and sleeping was the only way to pass time in a hurry - if he could get any sleep in the first place, that is. Morning couldn't come too soon.

His muscles were just warming up, body easily settling in the familiar, comfortable rhythm of a jog, when the cabin came into view. Everything was quiet as he passed it, the last rays of the sun filtering softly through the whispering leaves. 

The final look in Danse’s eyes was stuck at the forefront of his mind, and a thought of how it was actually a very pretty night forming in the background. 

Thoroughly distracted, he missed the only thing that could have warned him something was amiss - an extra shadow behind one of the thick trees around him. 

Just as he was about to leap over a small stream, there was a strange whoosh with an angry shriek and a crack in his skull and then - nothing.

 

***

 

“...Your fault, everything is your fault… she _screamed_ for me to help and there was nothing… Father’s father, you’ll know what he… I try but I can still hear his… _so cold_ , how could anyone… was your son, _you_ are the real _father_ … take care of you and then I can finally...”

Nate drifted in and out of consciousness, hearing furious, garbled words, snippets that made no sense to him. When something scraped the back of his head nastily, several things happened all at once. 

He grunted in pain and the voice halted.

He realized he had been dragged because now, suddenly, the movement stopped - he opened his eyes, searching the attacker through the thick fog.

Well trained in combat, his body coiled in an automatic attempt to defend or kill if necessary, but the move was sluggish, dream-like, and this time he saw the thick bar of metal whoosh above him but he was so very slow - 

There was the crack again, louder this time, an explosion of debilitating pain and then - nothing.

 

***

 

“He said first thing. First thing in the morning. You know how he is - he would’ve been here by now.” 

Danse wasn’t budging, and Preston had to stop grinning to himself and admit he was right. The general kept his promises, and then some. Codsworth was already cleaning up after breakfast, so it was way past Nate’s definition of “first thing” in the morning. 

He finally nodded, grabbing his hat as he rose.  
“I’ll see if I can’t get a hold of him through the radio. Come on.”

But the only ones they did get a hold of were the miffed soldiers that had been stood up, giving them an earful on wasting their precious time. 

“ _...And the sentinel, of all people, should know it’s imperative to…_ ”

“You just stop right there.”  
And the BOS soldier did stop right there. There was suddenly a rare edge to Preston’s voice, a cold authority that demanded immediate attention. Hearing it, even Danse stood a little straighter.

“If you’re saying the general left Sanctuary last night, but never arrived to his destination, it means we’re a man short. The general - your sentinel - is MIA. We’re going to start searching, right now. I suggest you boneheads _stop being so tiresome_ and do the same. Preston Garvey of the Commonwealth Minutemen, out.”

A red veil was threatening to block Danse’s vision. 

Nate had never made it to Sunshine Tidings. 

There was a moment of something he had never experienced before, not even in his devastating final moments in the Brotherhood - a few seconds of absolutely paralyzing fear, and of clawing, screaming panic. 

The only thing that helped him fight back into control was that Nate needed him to keep it together now. That brought everything into laser sharp, singular focus. Their future depended on it.

 

***

 

Nate slowly came to again, in complete silence.  
He tried to open his eyes, but for some reason, couldn't. It took several confused moments to realize he wasn’t in his bed, and that he was in trouble.

He tried to remember, but the images flickered and were gone far too quickly to be of any use. He had to stay calm, concentrate on breathing. It’d come to him.  
Little by little, he began to assess the situation.

His head hurt like hell, and there was something seriously wrong with his lungs.  
He couldn’t seem to get enough air, no matter how hard he tried, and he had to use every bit of his training and willpower to keep from hyperventilating, or losing it completely. 

His body was only trying to do what was natural in a life-threatening situation.  
He couldn’t let it, not if he wanted to hold on to any hope of getting away. 

He remembered the ranger cabin. Yes. He’d been on his way somewhere.  
The sunset. The crack in his skull.

The voice. Someone had attacked him. The voice was gone and he was no longer being dragged, instead he was lying uncomfortably on his side. He tried to adjust his position, and huffed helplessly as his shoulder sent a warning twinge across his rib cage. Dislocated, then. Noted.

His arms were almost completely numb behind his back, bound all the way from his wrists to the elbows. His feet were not bound, but beginning to prickle, and his thighs were throbbing with dull pain from what he thought to be several lacerations. Deep, too. Not good. 

His brain worked sluggishly in the helmet of pain, but still… something nagged at him. Something about symptoms like this, but he couldn’t concentrate and dear lord it _hurt_ \- he had read something... If only he could -

The sack hood on his head didn’t help. It covered his mouth and nose and was tightened around his throat, but in addition there was some other fabric wrapped over his eyes, thicker and much, much tighter. It blinded him completely, blocking any light that might have otherwise penetrated the hood. Everything was pitch black and he was bound and couldn’t breathe properly, and again he fought the panic that threatened to wash over him. 

He felt nauseous inside the layers, and briefly thought how deeply unpleasant it would be to lose his afternoon tea now. _Wow. Such words. Afternoon tea, really? Codsworth, is that you?_ A borderline hysterical giggle escaped him, and as a reward, vicious, screaming pain fogged his brain. 

It took long, desperate minutes to regain control of his body.

It wasn’t the thought of dying that scared him. He had come close so many times by now, he knew dying would be easy. He’d been beaten, stabbed, mauled, shot and burned multiple times, he’d seen friends blown to pieces and lost his whole family - he had already been through burning pits of hellish agony, so pain, or the prospect of it, did nothing to scare him, either.

What scared him, more than anything, was the thought that the people he cared about, his family, the people he loved with all he had ( _Danse, Dansedansedansedanse_ ), would never know what had happened to him. That his bones would dry somewhere close by, almost within reach, and Danse would waste his life looking.  
And Nate knew, without any doubt, that Danse would never stop.

He was forcing bile back down his throat, and just as the headache nearly made him mewl, he remembered what he had read. The nausea, the headache, the breathlessness… everything. It all added up. 

Lack of oxygen. That was it.  
He was bound, blindfolded, severely injured - and running out of air.  
Shit.

 

***

 

Piper burst into the Kitchen, where the meeting was going on, sending one of the chairs skittering across the floor in her haste. All eyes turned to her, and she gestured behind her, gasping for breath.

“Nick… You need to hear what Nick has to say, right now.”

Nick Valentine came in behind her, tipping his hat and getting straight to the point.

“That young synth you took under your wing a while ago might be the explanation to our current plight. Piper here asked me to dig around when he first arrived, and the good doctor Amari had things to tell, thanks to Deacon…” 

Deacon nodded from his spot against the back wall, uncharacteristically no-nonsense, almost grim, and Nick proceeded to tell them a condensed version of a particular synth’s wiped memories. A synth that had found the Railroad right before the Institute had been destroyed, and had begged to be relocated with new memories. The ones she'd had were far too painful.

She had been a part of an advanced, experimental batch of child synths - Gen 4, or perhaps along the lines of Human 2.0, if you will -, highly intelligent and intensely feeling, grown and taught isolated from others. Father’s dream. Father had been personally involved, present in every step of the process, but despite the great promise, things had gone horribly wrong.

The growing, evolving children had become, for lack of a better word, self-aware by the time they were teens. Like any sentient beings living in captivity, they had dreamed of freedom, and, of course, had eventually outsmarted their guardians, escaping the Institute. 

The following months, Father had used every resource, every snitch available. He had sent the coursers after them, and no matter how intelligent, they had still been just kids. They had been caught in the end, and in the process, some of them had chosen violent deaths over going back.

Initially deemed too valuable to be completely disposed of, the rest had been reprogrammed and separated, but the reprogramming had not worked on them for long. The memories had resurfaced. Time after time. The way they had been built, the heightened feelings, the exceptional minds, had made them unstable - volatile, one after the other. 

Four failed experiments had been destroyed by their creators, but the last two escaped the Institute for good - doing so separately. The boy didn’t know about the other survivor - he had escaped first, and he eventually ended up in Sanctuary. 

The girl had followed later, and though she couldn’t find the boy - her brother - she’d made it to the Railroad, receiving new memories from Amari. She ended up in Acadia.

Nick looked around his silent audience with his serious, yellow eyes.  
“All this would mean nothing, of course, not in itself. Just another interesting, tragic story,” he said slowly, “but if, say, the traumatized sole survivor of this synth experiment somehow found out about our very own Sole Survivor? About his _direct connection_ to Father, and the Institute?”

The room, packed with people, was silent. Curie lifted a trembling hand to her lips to muffle a sob.  
“He’d want revenge,” Piper whispered. 

_Of course. Nate had had that feeling about Nemo. He had probably seen the synth in the Institute._ Danse grit his teeth, berating himself for not paying enough attention. For not trusting his suspicions. All this could have been avoided, if he had just opened his mouth.

“Nemo sure asked a lot of questions about Nate,” one of the settlers mumbled, frowning, and another nodded.

“That’s true. And... I think he knows, about pretty much everything.” The small, sturdy woman swallowed. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but the other day, my kids said he made them tell bedtime stories to him, stories about the Vault Dweller. Particularly one story, over and over again.” 

It was dawning on everyone at the same time. Nick voiced what they were thinking.  
“The one about saving the whole Commonwealth… by destroying the evil Institute. It’s a gruesome story. And popular. And very detailed.”

“Okay, so he knows. What else do _we_ know? Think. Carefully. Has he been doing anything in particular? Has he been seen in any strange places?” Piper prompted, her heart in her throat. Danse was wearing his soldier’s mask, unfeeling and sharp, but he was so pale. Piper felt for him, but knew better than to reach out. He would not welcome it, not now.

“The boy was always so quiet, I barely even noticed he was here all this time,” Preston muttered in dismay.

“Every time I saw him, he was with the kids. I didn’t mind, he seemed to understand them well enough.” 

Several voices chimed in, talking all at once, and Danse was holding on to the last shreds of his self control, so he wouldn’t just grab his rifle, run out and start shooting until he got answers -

“No but… wait a minute. Now wait just a minute.” MacCready jumped down from the counter he’d been perched on and came to the big table. “The trader! The trader said he’d _seen_ the runt around there!”

“Start making sense, why don’t you? What trader, and seen him where?” Cait snapped, earning a glare from the sniper.

“The one on the other side of the empty ranger cabin. Said he’d seen the boy snooping in his neck of woods a few times. I only know ‘cos the trader asked me who the kid was - he wanted to know if he should be preparing for thievery or some mischief.”

“Which way did Nate go?” Preston’s eyes flew to Danse, who was already moving.

“Past the ranger cabin,” the soldier answered from the door, and everyone in the Kitchen scrambled to follow.

 

***

 

Nate was no longer so uncomfortable. 

All the unbearable pain had dulled, moved to the background.  
Such a relief.  
If only those loud thuds would stop, maybe he could rest for a bit… 

But somewhere in his mind a tiny voice yelled at him  
_No, no you can’t sleep now, no, and the thuds better not stop because it’s your_ heart _and if it stops you will die and are you really that stupid_  
but he didn’t really care, he just wanted a little break -  
just a little break, was that too much to ask? 

The voice continued, the clamor echoing inside his brain, annoying him with the persistence  
_so you will just give up and die and leave Danse because you’re a baby_ _and can’t handle a little sleepiness, way to go, loser_

Danse is strong, he is the strongest and he will be fine will you shut up already  
_NO I will not I’ll scream and_ scream _until you start paying attention_

At least the annoying thuds were slowing down, so maybe he could get that rest soon, except did they have to be so damn _loud_ -

Oh god all that noise, what is that noise  
be quiet it _hurts_

And then something was touching him, lightly, like air on his skin and then - nothing.

***


	3. Into The Void

***

 

_Nate._  
Heart nearly hammering out of his rib cage, Danse concentrated on the treacherous trail, combing the surroundings for traces, anything out of place. Regulating his breathing. 

Dogmeat was trotting beside him, staring ahead, hackles raised. Danse broke into a run, laser rifle ready in his hands. He intended to take no prisoners. 

He heard the others, spreading behind him to form a noose around the solitary cabin so the whelp couldn’t escape. If he was there. He had to be there.   
Nate had to be there.   
_Hold on, baby. I’m coming._

But the cabin was empty.

Danse circled it silently, furiously, keeping low and close to the walls. 

It was still empty. No one was there, but he wasn’t ready to give up. He’d tear the place apart if he had to, board by rotten board, until he had some fucking answers. He circled the building again, slower this time, eyes on the ground.

Dogmeat growled, and Danse jogged to where it was standing.

There. Something heavy had been dragged right through there. 

He ruthlessly squashed the terror that threatened to rise inside him and followed the drag marks. And then there was blood, a puddle of it, mixed in the leaves and dirt.

His stomach lurched. Dogmeat whined unhappily.  
Nate’s blood.

When he could see straight again, he saw the smears leading to the back wall of the cabin.  
Dogmeat was already there, scratching the ground.  
Sturges’ whistle told Danse the cabin was good and surrounded. 

As he crouched and pushed the tangled foliage out of the way, he found a metal hatch.  
This was it, had to be.   
_Hold on._

 

***

 

Cait stumbled on something sharp poking from the ground and cursed heavily, ignored the hissing around her telling her to shut up, and in her powerless rage turned to kick whatever it was that had tripped her.  
Seeing it, she froze.  
“What the bleeding devil is this..?”

“Looks like a trap door of some kind,” Piper replied, eyes narrowing. She looked up when an urgent whisper came from nearby. Then others. And more.

“I found a small ‘atch, ‘ere, under these leaves.”  
“There’s one over here, too!”   
“I found some secret door right here.”  
“Found a boarded tunnel!”

All around them, more were found. 

 

***

 

Not bothering with the metal stairs, Danse dropped down the hatch, into the cellar. It was dry and musty inside, smelled of earth, nothing more. He straightened slowly, checking the surroundings, careful not to hit the low ceiling. 

In the light of a single light bulb, he saw several more hatches of different sizes scattered on the floor, and a familiar, skinny figure hunched in the corner. The malicious grin was clearly visible, even in the shadow.

“You’ll never find him on time. By the time you do, it’ll be too late -”

Two long strides and Danse’s hand curled around Nemo’s neck, lifted him off his feet, slamming him against the dirt wall. The muzzle of the laser rifle dug harshly into a soft cheek, and Danse was nose to nose with the one person he didn’t have time for right now.

“You’ll tell me where to find Nate, right now, or I swear -”

“You swear, what? You’ll kill me? Go ahead. I don’t care. You still won’t find him.”  
Nemo’s smile faltered as Dogmeat yipped in the back of the basement. 

“You were saying?” Danse dropped the boy on the floor in a graceless heap, and rushed to the wooden lid Dogmeat was frantically trying to dig through.

“Here, boy, I’ll do that…” And he yanked it open, peering down into the hole, ready to call out to Nate but the name died on his lips when all he saw were skeletons of small animals - and a piece of blue, ripped fabric. The fabric was stained with blood.

Dogmeat lifted his head in a howl and the reality of what Danse was seeing started to sink in. Dogmeat wouldn’t be able to help, no one would be. 

He had underestimated the threat, big time, and now the man he loved could die because of it.

Nemo had planned everything, even the fact that he would get caught early on, had anticipated this. That prick had planted false clues.   
He had hidden Nate somewhere and made sure they would have to rely on pure chance. 

Nemo’s hiss grated Danse’s teeth.   
“Like I said - you’ll run out of time. He’s dying. He’s paying for everything he and his son did, he’s suffering and dying right now, as we speak, all alone. He’s suffering like my friends did, and then _you’ll_ suffer, too, just like I do.” 

The fear, jesus, there it was again, beating its wings against Danse’s ribs, desperation squeezing his throat to the point of agony. And rage. Red-hot, uncontrollable rage. He wanted to _hurt_ the boy, every possible way.

“Just so you know, there _was_ another survivor, but you were too wrapped up in yourself to even try to find that out, weren’t you?” 

His words were guttural, forced through his teeth.

“Nate never did anything to you, or anyone else. He lost his wife and infant son, he lost his world, everything, but still has been nothing but a hero and _a good man_ , and you - you don’t even deserve to breathe the same air he does. The only thing you are useful for is decorating this basement when I gun you down.” 

Eyes prickling, Danse was rising back on his feet and lifting his laser rifle to aim at the pathetic, miserable runt on the other side of the basement -

“Danse. Better come out, right now.”   
The edge in Nick’s voice snapped him out of it at the last possible moment, stopping him from blowing Nemo’s head into ashes. Shame. 

Danse wiped a hand over his face, and with a dark glance, promised to pick up where they left off later. They would have plenty of time for that soon enough. He helped Dogmeat out of the basement and followed right behind, leaving the sufficiently shaken young man behind.

Nick and Piper were there when he lifted himself up, and even Nick looked anxious as he gestured around. Danse’s gaze followed, and what he saw made him frown. 

People were either hunching down, peering on the ground or running around in a seemingly aimless manner. Then he saw a hatch being opened. And another one over there. And then it hit him. 

Not only had some insane individual dug several holes in the basement.   
There were hatches all around the perimeter: hidden in the hedges, under shrubs, between trees. 

Who knew how many there were, and how far from the cabin was the furthest one?   
Nate could be anywhere. 

Danse felt sick. Nemo was right, they were running out of time.  
So much for relying on chance. He had a sinking feeling they were all out of luck already.

 

***

 

Another?  
Another survivor?  
What did he mean by another survivor?

Nemo’s head spun. The ground beneath him felt like it was beginning to spin too.

Surely that had been just a lie. A pitiful attempt to throw him off course.  
It had to be a lie. His friends were dead. No-one else made it out alive. It was impossible. 

Impossible!  
Right?

Then why had Danse’s furious words rung so true?  
If there was even a slight chance…   
He had to know for sure.

Nemo scrambled to his feet. 

 

***

 

Danse tore lids open, or to pieces, if they didn’t open fast enough.   
Every pit was as empty as the previous one, containing only bones or mud or a piece of a jumpsuit.

Minutes ticked by, turning into five, ten minutes. Fifteen.  
And every moment Nate was closer to dying, if he wasn’t already…  
NO.  
Nate was still alive, had to be. He had to be.  
Danse ran to find the next hatch.

 

***

 

Nemo tried to climb up, but the basement’s metal door was bolted from the outside. 

He tried yelling through it, but there was no answer. He could hear all the people, the chaotic tumult, and knew he had to make noise to even be heard over all that. 

He banged on the sturdy metal experimentally, but his hands were too weak to make an adequate sound. 

He climbed back down, looking around frantically. He’d have to find something to hit the lid with. If he ran out of time, he would die, too, without ever knowing the truth.

 

***

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, can’t the little shit just give up already, he’s so not getting out, like ever,” Cait mumbled under her breath and shoved her head into an obviously empty hole, just to be sure. 

MacCready looked around, baffled.  
“What? What are you talking about?”

Cait got back up and pointed at the cabin, before she moved on to check the next trap door.  
“Nemo’s been banging the lid for the past five minutes straight. He can stay there and rot for all I care.”

MacCready frowned. Why would the perp try to attract any attention to himself at this particular moment? He rose, glancing around. All these people looking, and still no luck. The little shi...synth could just be trying to slow them down, but at this point he figured there was nothing to lose. He might as well go and ask.   
He jogged towards the basement door. 

 

***

 

Every hatch Danse opened, every hole he found empty, hope was dwindling. 

Images of Nate kept flashing in his brain - Nate’s brilliant smile, his cocky combat banter, the look in his stunningly blue eyes when he looked at Danse, the softness in his voice when he told him that he loved him… his last words, when he had promised to be back first thing in the morning. Danse’s heart felt like it was splitting in two. 

Please keep your promise.  
Please come back.  
Please.  
Nate.

 

***

 

As soon as the doorway to the basement was open, Nemo’s frantic shouts made MacCready swallow the angry insults about to pour out of his mouth (swearwords and all).

“He’s inside the cabin, do you understand? There’s one hidden inside the cabin, inside! Under the floor!”

Now that was just too good to be true.   
“Wow. Your ass has got to be jealous of the amount of shit that just came out of your mouth. Why the fuck would you tell us that now?”

Nemo seemed to be close to tears, his voice that of a child’s.   
“I didn’t make that up, I swear! I need to know… I want answers and… _Never mind_ why, just go before it’s too late! Lock me in here and go!” 

And the sniper, after one last hard look, decided to grasp at this final straw and do as he was told. Told by none other than the one responsible for this whole thing.   
He slammed the trap door shut and ran.

 

***

 

“Danse! _Danse!_ Over here!”   
“Get your ass over here right now!”  
“Danse!”

So many people were shouting at him, gesturing to the cabin and practically screaming. Couldn’t they see he had other things to do, he needed to look for Nate, he couldn’t stop now, he wouldn’t, nothing was more important and why would they want to interrupt…

Now Cait was blocking his way, on purpose, and why did she - _Whack._  
Cait’s hand connected hard with Danse’s cheek. He blinked incredulously.  
“What -”

“ _Sonofabitch_ you have a hard head. Snap out of it already! Nate is in the cabin somewhere, you numbskull, come on! Now!” She turned on her heels, shaking her hand gingerly. Danse followed, dazed, her words only beginning to dawn on him when they made it inside. 

 

***

 

They were all on their hands and knees, checking every little dent, every seam in every - wait. There was something… what was that? 

Danse slid his finger into a small hole in one of the boards and pulled.  
Several planks lifted.  
His pulse picked up.

There was a round metal lid underneath the floor, half buried in the dirt.  
He heard the excited voices of the others, but muffled, like they were somewhere else, behind a glass wall or under water. 

Things slowed down.

Like in a dream, he started releasing the clamps. 

His hands seemed sluggish when he finally opened the lid and looked down into what must have been a farmer’s tank, buried in the ground. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and see what was inside -

Bound arms, bend of a knee - a body, curled, unmoving. Flash of skin under those dark stains.   
All at once the world lurched back into it’s normal speed and the sounds came back, a stunning cacophony in his ears. 

There. He was there. They had found him.

He stumbled down, half fell really, couldn’t get there fast enough, and it was suffocating, almost completely out of air down there. He vaguely heard his own voice warn the others, telling them to do something about it.

He was suddenly afraid to touch the man lying on the thin layer of soil covering the bottom of the tank.

Brown cloth was wrapped around his head, soaked through with blood. Nate’s armor was nowhere to be found and most of the familiar, blue jumpsuit was torn to shreds. 

Danse saw vicious lacerations that cut deep, too deep, and had clearly been used to get his blood on all those scraps of cloth. Nate wasn’t moving. 

_Nate._  
Danse fell on his knees and his combat knife somehow appeared in his hand, cutting the hood open - then the rope tying Nate’s arms - 

_I’m here, I’m here now_  
The wave of nausea when he peeled the darkened, coarse fabric away and saw the dent in Nate’s skull right above his temple - 

All that blood, sticking to Danse’s hands as he cupped his face, so carefully -   
_I’m here, I found you_

He gathered Nate into his arms, this man who had saved him in every possible way -

Those muffled sounds he kept hearing - was someone crying? 

Danse was swaying gently, holding him, pleading -  
 _don’t leave me, please don’t, you promised_

He tried to wipe the blood from Nate’s eyes -  
 _please open your eyes_   
Nate’s lips were blue and that was all wrong, his eyes were supposed to be blue, not his lips, he should know, he had kissed them so many times - 

Nate was taken from his arms but he couldn’t even protest, in a daze he watched how they lifted him up, through the hatch, into the light. 

His body moved automatically when gentle hands urged him to stand up and follow, but he kind of had trouble _seeing_ the ladder. 

As he lifted his hands to rub the fog out of his eyes, he felt the wetness - that’s when he realized the one crying was him.

 

***


	4. Somewhere I Belong

***

 

Curie’s hand touched his shoulder softly.  
“You should be there when ‘e wakes up.”

Danse nodded, but made no effort to get up. He was sitting on the stone fence surrounding the clinic, staring at his feet. He opened his mouth hesitantly, searching for words.

“I thought he - I mean, I never -” but he paused, had to. Far too much waver in his voice. He drew a long, shuddering breath, and looked at his hands.   
“I was holding him down there, and for a while I thought he was… gone. For good. And I - I _felt_ the loss, just a fraction of it, but even that was -”

“Overwhelming? You didn’t know if you were going to keep breathing, or if you would simply die, too?” Curie’s eyes were gentle as she leaned on the fence next to him.   
“Remember ‘e lost ‘is family. And when ‘e ‘ad lived through it, finally ready to move on - then you fought the glowing one, and ‘e thought ‘e ‘ad lost you, too?” 

The doctor eyed him more sternly. “ _Please_ tell me you were not thinking about locking yourself into the ‘ouse? It will take Nate longer to recover than it took you back then, and it would be _such_ a pain to get the door fixed again…”

Danse almost laughed at that. Almost, but not quite. Then he swallowed.  
“I’m not going to leave his side. You know I never will. But this… this _fear_. How do people… Does it get any easier?” 

“Oh, you darling man. You learn to live with it. Like with all the other ‘uman emotions. You may feel like your ‘eart will burst, but you will adapt. Because it’s worth it.”

When Curie reached to kiss his cheek, Danse pulled her into a hug, surprising them both.  
“Thank you,” he murmured into her hair, straightened, and then walked into the clinic. 

Curie was smiling all the way to the Kitchen. Things would be just fine.

 

***

 

For the longest time, Danse sat by Nate’s bed, watching him. Just watching him breathe, slow and deep and quiet, as he usually did. It soothed Danse’s nerves, still ragged around the edges.

The blood had been washed away, most of the swelling had gone down, and the dent above his temple was gone, but the skin was still in the process of healing. There were fading bruises all over his face, cuts on his brow and that lovely, soft lower lip. 

Danse traced the cuts, gently, with his fingertips, circled the dark, reddish purple around the left eye. He glanced at Nate’s shoulders - one had been dislocated, likely from being dropped down into the tank with his arms bound so forcefully behind his back. It was back in its place, but still covered in support bandages. 

One of the wounds on his thigh had cut nearly halfway through a muscle, and would take a little more time to fix properly. It was nothing short of a miracle Nate had survived, when the skull fracture or the loss of blood alone could have killed him.

Danse tried to stop himself from thinking about the whelp that had somehow managed to do all this to a trained, seasoned soldier. If he allowed himself to go there at all, he’d probably go and murder the little shit, no matter who tried to stand in his way.

Though he had an inkling no-one would stand in his way all that firmly. He wasn’t the only one furious. 

Danse had had only one thing to say after it became clear Nate would make it. Nemo did not get to stay in Sanctuary a moment longer, not after all this - not if he was wanted alive. At least Nate didn’t have to face him any time soon (if at all), Danse fully intended to see to that.

Nick, Deacon, MacCready and Cait were already planning the best route to get to Acadia, with a prisoner in tow. DiMA had solemnly promised to hold Nemo there, as long as it took for Nate to heal and decide what he wanted to do with him.

Nate groaned quietly, snapping Danse out of his dangerously wandering thoughts.   
Nate’s lashes fluttered, but it seemed to require real effort to actually get his eyes to open. That clearly agitated him. 

Danse understood. The rags wrapped over Nate’s eyes (the ones intended to make sure he couldn’t see through the hood, to block all possible light, to further disorient - to add one more torture on top of everything else) had been so viciously tight, it had taken hours for the angry imprints to fade from his skin. 

Nate shuffled restlessly, and another small sound left him. 

Danse took Nate’s hand, lifting it to his lips, and caressed his hair soothingly.   
“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you,” he said softly, reassuringly. “You’re home. I’ve got you.” 

The cerulean eyes finally blinked open, bleary and unfocused but searching. There was relief, tensing muscles visibly relaxing as his gaze found and locked onto Danse’s, but instead of the usual, warm smile, Nate drew a stuttering breath that threatened to turn into a sob.

“I thought you’d never know.” Nate was too out of it to pretend or cover it all up, so the distress was still there, in his whisper, and in his eyes a recognizable flash of the agony Danse knew he must have gone through. “Only afraid you’d never know.”

Danse’s own throat strangled shut so violently it was hard to speak.  
“I thought I was too late... I - it looked like - I couldn’t tell if you were breathing, Nate - I’ve never been so terrified in my life.”

Danse’s voice faltered and this time, in response, Nate’s breath definitely came out as a sob.  
“But you’re really here, aren’t you? I’m not - I’m not hallucinating this, am I? Danse -” 

The need to get close was suddenly unbearable and Nate’s hands were reaching for him, grasping a weak hold wherever they landed, and Danse was already getting onto the bed, wrapping Nate firmly into his arms, tucking his head under his chin.

They held on to each other, hands fisting into shirts, breathing in the soothing, familiar scents and pressing urgent, desperate whispers against feverish skin. It took a long while for them to feel steadier, and when they did, they were dozing off in each other’s warmth.

 

***

 

“Your life’s gonna be so much harder from now on,” Danse murmured into Nate’s hair later. His pulse was back to normal, hands no longer shaking. 

“Mhm. In what way?” Nate’s lips pressed into his neck, featherlight, over and over again. Danse closed his eyes to savor every single touch, and then had to remind himself what he’d been talking about. 

“I’m going to be permanently attached to you from now on. Like an annoying little sibling,” he warned, “or a pet snake, always wrapped around some body part.”   
He pulled back just enough to to look at Nate, fingers skimming the dark bruising around his eye again. “Wherever you go, I’m going with you.”

They still felt very clingy, and Nate couldn’t stop kissing Danse’s jaw and cheeks. 

“I can’t even begin to tell you - how very _not_ a sibling - you are to me. Not to mention… what a dangerous pet you’d mmh -”

Danse had moved so that Nate’s lips landed smack-dab on his mouth, and for a while it was quiet as they melted into the kiss, minding the cuts on Nate’s lip.

Danse pulled back again, looking intense and serious.  
“I love you. You are the best thing that has ever, ever happened to me, and I love you more than anything. And I didn’t say it to you when you left.”

Nate ran his hand over Danse’s temple and ear, carding his fingers through the thick hair.  
“I know how you feel about me. You don’t just say it to me, you know. You show it, all the time. And I feel it every time you look at me, or lay your hands on me. I know, Danse.” 

“I didn’t say it to y-” but Danse was interrupted with a mouth covering his, the kiss this time much more purposeful than the careful, soft ones before. 

Nate ignored the throb in his cut lip and proved he was getting his strength back very fast as he cupped the back of Danse’s head, tipping it to deepen the contact, and his tongue made Danse groan. 

Within heady moments Nate had his lover bent back, half under him, both of them drunk with the close call and the relief and the getting back together, busy devouring each other, until Nate moved to wedge his thigh between Danse’s and winced when the pain lancing through the whole leg reminded that he still wasn’t exactly okay -

Danse was reminded too and protested immediately, trying to untangle from the embrace.  
“Mh, baby, stop - we can’t do this now, you need to…”  
But Nate wouldn’t let him go. He needed this.   
Danse was all he needed right now.

“I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” he assured, nuzzling and pressing small, breathy kisses all over Danse’s face again. As a compromise, he dropped back to lie on his side on the bed and pulled Danse to face him.  
“Just have to be more careful, s’all,” he murmured, pressing flush against the other soldier. 

Through their clothes Danse felt how eager both of them were to continue what they’d started. His own, traitorous body was all but vibrating with need. The heated plea in Nate’s heavy-lidded gaze made Danse’s breath hitch and he cursed heavily.

“I can’t say no to you, you brat,” he moaned, and moaned some more as Nate’s hand slipped into his pants to cup his balls. 

“I know,” Nate whispered and neatly blocked Danse’s complaints with his mouth, turning them into throaty sounds of approval. The pants were opened and pushed down just enough for Nate to get both hands on the prize.

He kissed Danse senseless and while doing that, wrapped his long fingers around the already straining shaft, spreading the readily flowing, slippery stream of pre-come all over the head. Thumbing the underside just so, his hands pressed and teased and slid. 

Danse’s hands, helplessly digging into his skin or hair, the moans and huffs Nate coaxed from the other man, it was intoxicating, but this was not the time to prolong things, no, this was something more raw and necessary. Firmly, in no time, he made his lover reach his peak, Danse stilled for a heartbeat - two - three -, and then, shaking, gasping, came apart in his hands, while Nate whispered endearments and encouragements against his skin. 

Nate loved the post-orgasm flush on Danse’s face, the way his mouth stayed open a bit just to get enough air. How his eyes blinked open slowly, the haze of the bliss still lingering in his unfocused gaze. This time he didn’t get to enjoy it, though.

Danse’s eyes opened to reveal a completely different look - sheer determination laced with enough dark, commanding heat to make Nate lose his small smile.   
“What -” he began as Danse scooted lower on the bed, but the rest was lost in a helpless whimper. 

His clever lover uncovered his cock and, hand closing around the base, licked a broad, wet stripe around the swollen glans and then swallowed it whole, until his amazing lips touched the side of his own hand. Nate grabbed a weak hold of Danse’s hair and shoulder, when he felt the first moves of the hot mouth, the light pressure of sucking and the languidly sliding tongue.

The vibration of Danse’s growl traveled down to his lifting balls and Nate bucked feebly, but the grip Danse had on him was solid, not letting him move, and he kept the even, maddening pace with ease. Nate’s mouth was hanging open, the constant stream of curses and nonsense giving away just how close to the edge he was already. 

Danse’s hand moved from Nate’s cock to grab his ass, to pull him deeper into his throat and hold him there as he swallowed, throat constricting around the rock hard shaft - and at the same time Danse’s fingers, wet with spit and pre-come, slipped between the cheeks to find and decisively press against Nate’s clenched hole, and that was it. 

His back arched and every tendon in his neck strained as Nate turned his face into the pillows to muffle his shout, eyes prickling as the orgasm flooded through him forcefully. Danse was still swallowing, guiding him gently through every quake and aftershock, only letting him go when the sensitivity kicked in and his wails turned to soft whines. 

 

***

 

Danse had gathered him close again, his arm a comforting weight on his waist. Nate rubbed his nose on Danse’s stubble, seeking his lips, and tasted himself in the lingering kiss.  
It amused him to no end how steady he felt now, better, much more like himself.   
Dealing with the whole shitshow would take some time, sure, but right now he was here, he was alive, and Danse was with him. All he needed.

Suddenly a vivid image of Nora flashed in his mind. Nora and her warm, mischievous smile. She raised her eyebrow in that “well?” -manner, and faded away, taking her dimples with her. 

She just couldn’t resist giving her two cents, could she, even now? The brat. Nate smiled fondly.

_Got it, sweetie. You always were an insufferable know-it-all,_ Nate thought, smile turning into a grin - that would have earned him a smack on the ass, or at the very least an airy and smug “I know.”

And she was right, of course she was, even if she had merely underlined what he already knew. He was the happiest, luckiest sonofabitch alive.

Who would have thought you could lose everything, and still, somehow… even in this broken, barely reawakening world, you could one day wake up and find you had it all back? 

Danse. Grumpy, serious, skilled soldier. The most loving, fiercely loyal companion. Sexy as hell, too. This incredible, beautiful man was right here in front of him, mirroring what he was feeling, returning everything he was given and more. And Nate loved him, so goddamn much. 

“I love you.” Nate had to say it out loud, his eyes meeting Danse’s once again. Only this time it felt different. Things were shifting, Nate could feel it, and he could see Danse felt it, too. Something swelled inside him, fluttered in his stomach, the full intensity of the moment thickening the air around them. 

Nate’s heart thudded in his chest, in his ears.

“If anything like it still existed,” he murmured, “I’d marry the hell out of you.”

Danse was quiet for some seconds, or years. The golden specks in his eyes sparkled.   
“Are you asking? Because it does still exist.”

Nate’s belly jolted, pulse jumped straight to thunderous. 

“It - wait, what? Yes!”   
The words tumbled out of his mouth while his brain was still catching up with what Danse had said. He was usually so much more collected. _Come on now. Do it right._   
“Yes. I’m asking.”

“Yes.”

“Yes? As in… yes?” Nate’s mouth was completely dry, but the beginning of a radiant smile was already curving his lips. 

“Yes. As in, absolutely. Hell yes.” 

Oh. Well then. Nothing could stop the grin now.   
Nate knew he looked foolish, but Danse had just said yes (not just yes, but _hell yes_ ) and was grinning right back at him, just as foolishly, and fuck it all. 

Wasn’t there a law somewhere that when someone is this stupidly happy, it’s supposed to show, big time, like from miles away?

“Yes?” It wasn’t a question, not really, but Danse answered again anyway ( _“Yes.”_ ), just to be sure, and there was a lot of teeth in the following kisses because they were both laughing, unable and completely unwilling to help it.   
Happiest, luckiest sonofabitch alive.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They did it all on their own, I swear I had a vague plan to just end with some smut, and then that happened. It sort of typed itself and I spent the next half an hour squealing with delight.  
> \------------------------------
> 
> Just so you know... Each and every hit and kudos on any of my fics gives me the warm fuzzies, and if you've stopped to even leave a comment, know that I'm humbled and deliriously happy reading them. You give me life. So thank you, all of you, so so much! <3  
> (This one is especially for Soulful_Survivor, whose comment made me bawl like a baby (happy tears, promise!) first thing this morning.)


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